Life
by terrified
Summary: A Molliarty one-shot. James Moriarty is in trouble, so much trouble that he fears for his life. He soon learns, however, he has absolutely nothing to fear, not with Molly Hooper around.


_**A/N:**_ _A Molliarty one-shot once again because I got inspired by a Molliarty photoset someone sent me with the phrase "No one ever gets to me". I also love writing Molly as this mysterious figure, whose background we have no clue of, and her unexplained but established relationship with James Moriarty. I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it :) x_

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 **Life**

The gun cocked once more and this time, for the first time in a very long time, James Moriarty felt true fear.

The fear made him realise he was not so cold-blooded after all, that he was mortal, human, and made of the same flesh and bone like everybody else. After all, if he had been so cold-blooded before, why did it only run cold now?

There was a slight tapping of an impatient index finger against the barrel of the gun pointed at him. The gun and its shooter were metres away but it did not matter, for Jim was bound and gagged and made to kneel on the ground of an abandoned flour mill.

Jim watched as beads of his own sweat dripped down onto the dusty floor beneath him. He saw the marks they made and wondered how many more beads of sweat he could count before the bullet came for his forehead.

It had only been a matter of time that Sherlock Holmes and that pesky older brother of his would have gotten to him, pulling apart his 'evil twin' gag and hunting him down. So now, it literally _was_ just a matter of time before a trigger would be pulled and he would die. Still, no one could really kill James Moriarty. Not his defiance anyway. He was going to have the last word. Even at his last breath, he would be the one to have the last word.

The gunman walked forward, the gun still poised at the ready whilst the other hand reached for Jim to strip the gag off.

Once the gag had come off, Jim gasped, choking a bit as he took a proper breath in.

"You..." he paused to cough, "Whoever you are..."

The only response was that impatient tapping again of a finger against the barrel of the gun.

"You can tell them...that ice man and his virginal baby brother..." he said, grinning sardonically, " _No one ever gets to me_."

A series of small, soft chuckles muffled by the gunman's mask, rang through the air.

Jim paused, cocking his ears to study the sound. He knew this laugh. He knew it very well, in fact. This was no ordinary gunman, no mere peon of Mycroft Holmes sent to execute him.

There was a soft thud as the black fabric of the gunman's mask fell to the ground. She loosened her brown ponytail out from where it had been twisted under her disguise and cricked her neck.

"Oh, but I always do..." came the quiet but amused voice of a woman Jim knew only too well.

He stared at her face, his jaw slightly slack from disbelief.

"How…" he asked, genuinely surprised.

Molly laughed again, picking her mask up as she joined Jim and knelt on the ground. Her face was only an inch away from his as she tucked her gun safely back in its holster. No bullet was going to touch him. Not her Jim, not without her permission.

"I thought I was going to die…" Jim gasped in a slip of vulnerability.  
"As if I'd let them get to you and this beautiful face…" she whispered, smiling against his cheek as she planted a slow kiss.

Carefully, she untied him and helped him to his feet, dusting the lapels of his suit affectionately as though the fact that she had had a gun pointed at him had never happened. With a grin, she looped her arm through his and slowly walked him out of the factory.

"What are we going to do about them?" he asked, as they strolled out of the empty building.  
"Well, you know me…" Molly said, smirking to herself.  
"They'll know what you did, Molly," Jim said, poorly disguising the concern he reserved only for a rare few, "Then what will you do?"  
"They don't see me like you do, Jim," she answered, "I'll be fine."

They continued their walk, quiet and contemplative, out into the sunshine.

"Besides," she continued, squinting a little at the hot midday sun, "As far they're concerned, they're already looking at your corpse…"

Jim paused and turned to stare at her, admiring the glow of her skin in the rays of sunlight. When she turned back to look at him, they both cracked wide playful grins, acknowledging what they both knew now.

"You didn't…" Jim remarked, clicking his tongue.  
"Of course, I did," she said, "I'm Molly Hooper, the faker of death…"

Her words made Jim laugh, and he turned to kiss her cheek.

"And the giver of life," he continued, "Because you gave me back mine."

 **END**


End file.
